For You I Pledge
by Amazon Life
Summary: Post-season 4. Regina has the dagger and is trying to find ways to bring Emma and the Dark One apart again, but Dark Swan is not at all what she expected, and dealing with her is a different challenge altogether.
1. Losing control

A/N: Hey there! I'm aware that I'm the worst updater ever... I'm honestly sorry for that. The semester that just ended was absolute hell for me, though, so I barely had time to breathe. I'll try my best to work on updating my other story before my break is over, but meanwhile, here's something that wouldn't leave my mind and was just begging to be written.

* * *

You hold the dagger in your hand, fist clenching around it as if the strength of your grip could stop it from shaking. It weighs as if it was made of lead, with the weight of promises kept and fates intertwined and defeat and emptiness.

You never thought emptiness could be so heavy, but it absolutely is, you can fee it pulling you down with every breath you take. You also never thought defeat would be finally getting the man you were supposedly always fated to be with; you thought that would taste like the ultimate victory... but somehow, it's the exact opposite, and you know something is wrong with that picture, but there's far too much on your mind to focus on that.

You take a deep breath and try to gather the courage to speak. When you do, your voice shakes just as much as your hands.

"Dark one... I summon thee." You wait for a moment but nothing happens, and you wonder if you did something wrong, and if the formality is necessary at all. You try again. "Emma. I need to see you."

Before you even get to finish your sentence, there she is. It figures that Gold would have gone by the title, power-hungry as he was. And it figures that Emma would still be just... Emma. She never wanted any titles. Not when she was the Savior, and not now when she is the Dark One. You understand... more than you'd care to admit. You'd never wanted to be a Queen, much less the Evil Queen. Both of those were give to you, thrust upon you.

Not by Emma, though. She has said and proven, time and time again, that for _her_ , you're just Regina. So you vow to yourself to always make sure to give her the same courtesy. To never forget who she is, beyond titles, beyond powers or magic or anything else. She is Emma, and that's how you'll keep calling her.

She stands at an awkward distance, close enough to be able to have a conversation, but further than even arm's length. It looks and feels so different from just a couple of days ago, from when you'd stand right in front of each other, heads coming close and voices still clearly heard even if you whispered – which you often did, whether to talk about Robin or the book or whatever other challenge you had in your hands in the last few months.

And she looks... like herself. No green scales or distorted features or weird exaggerated mannerisms. In a way, it also figures. You always believed those came with the Dark One, but if you think about it now, the power that came with it would definitely allow one to choose how they look, or at least stop unwanted changes. So you slowly come to the conclusion that Gold probably wanted, or at least welcomed, his new appearance... whereas Emma would of course fight against anything that tried to define or change who she is – like she always has before.

In a way, she seems almost unchanged, at least to untrained eyes. But you know her. You know her as well as she knows you, and you see the difference right away: every inch of her body and her face might look the very same as it did before... but not her eyes. There's something new, something that you first saw there in the days after Cruella; but right now it's been amplified. You can't really describe it, much less in few words, but you know it's there, you know it's different, and you know it's bad.

Emptiness – one much deeper than the one you feel, as if there was a literal void inside her -, badly contained anger, even a certain level of disdain... those are all words that cross your mind. And pain... not like searing pain, but a dull ache that makes her eyes gloss over and that you can almost feel yourself.

It makes you want to cry. It makes you want to run to her and pull her into your arms and touch her face and blow life into her again. But you know it's not that simple... so you hold your stance and you try your best to not let your face show any sign of any of the hundred things you're feeling.

She sighs – you can see it more than actually hear it – and it occurs to you that you have just been staring at her for probably minutes now. You give her a half smile as an apology, but her expression doesn't change the slightest bit.

"Regina... what do you want?" You'd have expected the question to come with a bite, with sarcasm, irritation or something like that. But instead, all you can hear is exhaustion and sadness, and you desperately want to do something about that, but you don't know what, you don't know how.

You take a step in her direction, and she immediately takes a step back. You can't help but flinch – you absolutely did not expect that simple action to hurt you so much, but it does; she could have stabbed you with that dagger, and it would probably still have hurt less.

You exhale slowly to keep the tears that are rapidly forming in your eyes from falling. You want to be closer to her, but you got the message that she doesn't want you close. You can't even honestly blame her for it; you don't try stepping forward again.

"Emma..." You look up at her and you plead with your voice and with your eyes; you don't need any other word but her name for it... She knows you well enough to recognize a plea for what it is. Her eyes soften the slightest bit, but apart from that, there is no change.

You again have to look away as one more blow hits you. You feel stupid for expecting her to still treat you the same way as before... to still care about you. You don't deserve her to, you don't deserve her friendship or her compassion, much less her forgiveness. Not when all this pain that she's holding in is your fault. Not when she doomed herself to this for you, when you never deserved her to do that to start with.

You can't ask anything of her, not even to be in your presence. You have no right to be holding this dagger, even though everyone seemed to agree it'd be best if you were the one to keep it.

You give up on looking at her, not even trying to face her anymore. You just want to make sure she's fine (or as fine as one can be with the Dark One inside), and to find a way to revert that and bring her back... so that's what you'll focus on.

"Emma... I know you don't want to be around me. I understand. I won't summon you anymore if I can avoid it; I'm sorry for doing that. Just... know that I'm trying to find a way to bring you back. I won't stop looking. If you know of anything that could help, just let me know."

This time, you actually hear her sigh, loud and clear, probably because there is some level of scoffing in it too. "Is it really that bad, for you to not even be able to look at me?"

It is... but you force yourself to look up again and face her anyway. She deserves nothing less. You're surprised to see her looking back at you with what's possibly the closest to kindness she can muster at the moment.

"I don't blame you, Regina."

You wonder how she knows that that's exactly where your mind has been... but then again, she knows you. She understands you like no one ever did before, and probably no one ever will after. That's where her mind would have been too if roles were reversed... so she knows. But you still don't understand why or how she doesn't.

"You should... You really should. It's my fault and I'm well aware of that."

She's struggling to not roll her eyes and you can see that struggle as clearly as if she went ahead and did it. Emma was never good at patience, but right now you could already notice that she has virtually none of it left.

"It was my choice, Regina. You never asked me to, much less forced me. Quite the opposite; if I remember correctly, you nearly begged me _not_ to. But I chose to. I knew what I was doing and what would happen, and I still did it. And, for the record, I don't regret it. If I had to do it again, to make sure you're happy? I would. Now can we please get over this so you can stop wallowing in your guilt and can actually be in the same room as me without wanting to dig a hole and hide?"

The laughter comes out of your throat before you can stop it, dry and sarcastic and pained at the same time. "Wanting to dig a hole and hide" is actually a perfect description of how you feel, and you silently commend her inside your mind for picking up on it.

Her tone still stings, though; at the same time familiar and with a completely new edge. It worries you, but you leave it aside for the time being. You try to focus on her words... but that brings you a new problem. She did that to herself to make sure you're happy; she said so herself. So how do you tell her you're not? How do you tell her that it was all for nothing, because you can't be happy while she's the Dark One and won't even let you take a step closer to her?

And if her blaming you for what she became is not the problem like she says... then what is? Because she did still step away from you, and she is still standing a couple of feet away, and she hasn't made a move to get any closer.

She stares blankly at you, confused by your reaction, but you're not sure you can offer her any clarifications. Nothing makes much sense to you anyway, and if laughing out of pain and despair is not something she can understand, then you don't know how to explain it to her either. All you can do is divert the focus and try to get explanations for the things that are confusing _you_ instead.

You take a deep breath, exhaling slowly through your lips as if to shake the last remains of laughter away so you can concentrate again. You speak slowly, careful to make sure your tone does not betray any of your emotions; for some reason, you feel the need to at least appear collected – or simply more collected than the mess you feel like.

"So you don't blame me... but I still can't get any closer to you than this? Why?"

She grimaces at the question... as if that was the last thing she'd like to be asked. You wonder if that's because she doesn't have an answer for it, if that's because that question will force her to admit she lied and she does actually blame you. She sighs again and you wonder if she'll bother to answer at all; she does, but it still barely makes sense to you.

"Because I don't trust myself."  
"With what? You don't trust yourself to not be able to continue pretending you don't hate me and blame me if you get closer? Is that it?"

You know you probably sound like a petulant child, insisting on the same thing time and time again, and you know you're probably wasting the last droplets of patience she has left... but you can't help it. It weighs too much inside you and you just cannot understand how it can possibly _not_ be an issue for her...

"Regina, I will say this for the last time. It was _my_ choice. I do _not_ blame you." She takes a deep breath, as if to calm herself down, before continuing. "I don't trust myself to not hurt you. And before you ask, that's not because of you. It's because of _me_. I don't trust myself to not hurt anyone right now." She adds the last part almost inaudibly through the distance. "So I don't wanna be close to anyone I care about."

To say that catches you by surprise is an understatement; it hits you like a punch to your guts... but also like an embrace. It hurts and it heals at the same time. You feel so, so very sorry for her, for whatever is going on inside her that makes her feel like she can't even be close to the people who matter to her. But at the same time... you feel loved.

Because the word she used might have been "care"... but you know better. You know the other word is just too hard for her to say – probably especially so under these circumstances. But now you see it for what it is: not letting you step closer was an act of _love_. As much as you drawing the Chernabog to yourself to try to save her; as much as you trying to convince her to not shoot Lily; as much as her sacrificing her wholesomeness to protect your chance at happiness... those were _all_ acts of love, and so is this.

Your heart still hurts, though. You still want to run up to her, Dark One be damned, and just hug her for once. You've had that impulse so many times before, but never acted on it, never allowed yourself to. You're not good at that kind of thing with anyone but Henry, you were never sure it would be well-received, she's not generally the touchy-feely kind... so you never did; but now you wish you had. Now you wish you could. For a moment you consider just dashing for it, but you know it would be a bad idea. It would scare her – even more than she probably is already – and it would go against her will, and you don't know the repercussions that either of those could have right now. You file it in your mind, though, with the resolution to do it the very first chance you get.

The thing is... you know what she's saying makes sense. Rationally, you know she's dangerous. But you do really see her as just... Emma. The Emma who always did her best to be good, who always tried to do the right thing. The Emma who was selfless enough to sacrifice herself for you. That's the Emma you know. And you trust her, even if she doesn't trust her own self right now. And you think you might be able to help her with that at least.

"Emma, you're not going to hurt me. I can stand my ground." You try to make your voice sound as calm as possible, but still firm and steady and certain.

"Against the Dark One? Not even you can do that, Regina." She has a point... you know that, but she doesn't have to.

"We'll never know if we don't try. What's the worst that can happen? You hurt me, I heal myself, I'm good as new. Besides, I have the dagger; all I have to do is tell you to back away if you're about to harm me."

She actually scoffs at that, and this time you're the one to not understand. "You won't have _time_ for that, Regina. If it strikes... that's it. And the thing is... I'm not in control. I can't... I can't control it."

You tentatively raise your arm and reach for her, but the distance is still too big and she doesn't shorten it the slightest bit; you just let it fall back down and settle for just looking into her eyes and trying to make her see what you're trying to say.

"You _can_ control it, Emma. I believe in you."

This time, she can't stop herself from rolling her eyes, which hurts you a bit, but you do nothing to demonstrate it. "Well, you shouldn't, because I can't. I couldn't even control it when it was just my own magic, remember?! I hurt Henry! I could have _killed_ him."

"But you didn't."

"That was sheer luck. I could have. And that was just _me_. But now? With this... this _darkness_ swirling and boiling inside me?"

She grimaces when she says the word "darkness", disgust and anger clearly shown on her face, and her voice gains a new intensity for the rest of the sentence that makes your breath catch inside your lungs for a moment.

She finally takes a few steps in your direction, her presence not at all what it was just instants ago. "Now, I could actually kill him."

The way she says this is also completely different from the way she said a very similar sentence just now. Her tone, the look on her face, the way she brings herself... all of it has changed in mere seconds. It scares you, but you try your best to not let it show.

Now you're the one to want to step away, but you don't let yourself. You don't move an inch from where you stand, and she finally reaches you, standing entirely too close, nose almost touching yours. You can feel her heavy breaths on your cheeks.

"I could kill _you_."

She's sneering now, and you know you have produced similar expressions in the past, sometimes even directed at her, and it hurts. You recognize this for what it is. No longer an argument or hypothetical thinking, but a threat, clear as day. She could kill you.

Your breath is now ragged too, and yet you still refuse to step back. She probably knows you're afraid, can probably see it in your eyes, but you don't want to demonstrate it at all if you can help it.

And then she shifts, and all you have time to do is think that this might just be how you die – and it would be well-deserved on all accounts.


	2. Not giving up

**A/N: I suck at updating. But I try. Happy new year?**

 **Please let me know if there's anyone still reading this and/or still interested in having me continue?!**

* * *

You keep expecting the blow, the pain, the nothingness that you imagine will come with death... and it doesn't come, not immediately at least. But then her hand is around your neck, forcing you jaw up, constricting, making it harder and harder for you to breathe... You open your eyes to face her, feeling your thoughts go hazy from the lack of oxygen, and her piercing gaze seems to be looking right inside you.  
And the worst thing is... this feels familiar. Like you've been in this exact situation before, except you're pretty sure this has never happened.

But then you remember a dream... a nightmare, really, but it was just like this: her hand around your throat, her angry eyes that would kill you just with a look if they could, the panic settling in the pit of your stomach.

Except then, everyone else was watching, even urging her on, clamoring for your death; now, you're alone with her. Which means there's no one to encourage her, but no one to stop her, either. Back then, the thought that someone would had never crossed your mind. But now, you'd like to think, maybe, someone being here might save you. You'd like to think Henry would try to stop her, for your sake as well as hers. You'd even like to think Snow and David would as well.

But none of them is with you, so none of them can do a single thing as she just keeps squeezing and your eyes start to roll back into your head and your vision goes black and you can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe.

And then, suddenly, you don't feel anything anymore. Once again, you think that must mean you're dead at last; once again, you're wrong. After a few moments, you realize you're actually breathing again. Your head is pounding so much that you wonder if your brain is about to explode. You're not supposed to be in pain after you die, are you? Your vision returns slowly, glossy at first but then gaining focus.  
And that's when you realize she's nowhere to be found.

* * *

You've been pacing around your study for at least a couple of hours, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened, but your heart is still pounding way too quickly to allow you to really think.

Part of you wants to summon Emma again, ask for explanations, for a way to make sense of it... but, although you hate to admit it, another part of you is afraid to do that. Another part of you thinks doing that would be tempting death twice in one day.  
The dagger sits on your table, and you stare at it blankly while trying to make up your mind. You're so lost in thought that you don't hear the door opening, and are completely startled when you hear Robin's voice coming from behind you.

"Regina? Is everything okay? You've been in here the whole day..."

You turn back to look at him, and everything about him, from his voice to the expression on his face to his tense shoulders is so _concerned_... it makes you feel somewhat sorry for him. Ever since that night, the night when darkness tried to swallow you whole and Emma Swan used the Dark One's dagger to save you, that's how he's been: worried and concerned, and you can't even tell exactly about what. And clueless, absolutely clueless, like a confused puppy who doesn't even know where to turn its head to.

You wish you could explain it to him, make him understand... But how can you, when you don't even understand it yourself? When you don't even know exactly what's happening or what to do about that or even how to feel? As it is, you're probably the worst person to explain anything at all... and you're not sure you'd have the patience either. If you were to be honest, you'd have to admit that his cluelessness has been exasperating you quite a bit... but you try to not let yourself go there, just like you try to not let yourself think about the fact that you're not as happy as you were probably supposed to be at this moment. You try to not let your mind go anywhere related to Robin or your relationship with him; right now is not the right moment. Your priority has to be Emma and bringing her back and fixing this mess.

So you just exhale and shake your head slightly and try to make at least some of the tension and the stress leave you before you turn to face him. You try to make your voice as soft as possible because it's not his fault, and you really have been trying to not lash out, because that never went too well for you. You're still not beyond lying, though.

"I'm fine, dear. I have just been trying to think and do some reading and try to figure some things out."

If you think about it, that's not even a complete lie; you tell yourself that makes it less bad somehow. You hear him sigh and see the worry still on his face; your words did nothing to change that. You give him a mental pat on the back for that, since you had actually expected him to fully buy it.

But the interruption made you realize that you really have been locked in your study for most of the day, without as much as eating. So you try once more to shake everything that's worrying your own self away for the time being, and join him for dinner.

* * *

You've barely managed to doze off when your phone rings and wakes you up. You feel like strangling whomever it is, but you're fully aware that no one would call you at this time of the night for a friendly chat, so you know it must be important. Begrudgingly, you force yourself do get up and answer.

"Regina?" You're greeted by Snow's worried voice - or Mary Margaret's, or whatever else she prefers to be called recently; to you, she'll always be Snow White, for good or for bad. And you know her enough to know she's nearly in panic, and that can't be good. A dozen scenarios rush through your mind in a matter of seconds.

"What happened, Snow? It is Henry!? Emma? The baby?"

You hear her taking a deep breath, as if willing herself to calm down enough to explain, and you try to do the same, mostly unsuccessfully.

"It's Emma... I talked to her earlier and she sounded so angry... more so than usual, even lately. And she had said she might come over at least for dinner, because we haven't seen her in so long and Henry misses her so much... but she never showed up. So I got worried and decided to go to her place after I put Neal to bed... but she's not there. And I can't reach her. And I know she never promised to come and maybe she's just out somewhere, but I have a really bad feeling, Regina. Something's not right."

You sigh and try to take another deep breath, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Normally you might think she was worrying too much; but today, you know better. And you feel like, yet again, this is your fault. But at least there's one thing you can do to help, regardless of what that'll mean for you.

"You want me to..?"

"Please... I know you probably don't want to, but.. please, Regina. I'm really worried."

You feel so sorry for her, for the pain you can hear in her voice; the pain of someone who's lost her child, and then finally found her... but who keeps losing her again and again and again. And you know you've been the one to cause that pain, nearly every single time, one way or another. You clench your jaw, exhaling slowly, and nod curtly even though she can't see you.

"I will. I'll do it and get back to you as soon as I can. Just go back home and try to calm down."

* * *

Yet again, you find yourself in your study, staring at the dagger and trying to gather the guts to do what you have to do. This time, however, you're more prepared. You're fully expecting a threat, or even an act from Emma; you're ready to smoke yourself away in a second if that happens, and one of your hands is even ready to make a fireball if that's what it takes to at least keep her away until you do. You feel so extremely guilty for all of this... but what you want is to fix it, not to die, so you fully plan to not let that happen.

You take a few more deep breaths, then reaches out for the dagger in one swift motion, holding it tight in one of your hands, while still keeping the other one ready to defend yourself. You try to announce your words as clearly as possible, again trying to not let your voice shake.

"Emma, please show up." You know she doesn't exactly have a choice... but it's still important to you to be polite and treat her as a person, not an entity that can be commanded. You don't know if that makes it any better for her... but it does for you, even if just slightly.

Once again, she barely lets you finish the sentence before appearing in front of you - and even in the quasi-darkness of your study, lit only by the lamp on the table, you can see she's not happy to have been summoned.

She doesn't look at you, keeping her eyes down at the table between you two - the only thing separating you, and you're suddenly thankful for its presence -, but her lips are stiff and her jaw is tightly set, and the furrow on her brow leaves no room to wonder. And, apparently, neither does her tone.

"What the hell do you want, Regina? Do you actually want to die this time, is that it?!"

You take a few breaths, not wanting to make her even angrier, and quickly assesses your escape options again. When you're once more sure you can make it out if the situation calls for it, you finally speak up, as softly as you can manage.

"I'm sorry... Your mother was worried because she couldn't find you, and asked me to -"

"Of course she was. Why can't anyone just fucking leave me alone?! When are all of you going to understand that you're safer without me around? Couldn't you have told her?!"

You flinch at her explosion, biting your lip and taking a few more deep breaths, trying to will yourself to calm down and not react just yet.

"You know that wouldn't have been a good idea, Emma... Either she wouldn't have believed me, or she wouldn't have reacted well. And in either case, she'd still be worried about you and she'd still want news."

You watch as she tried to breathe as well, closing her eyes as if trying to force herself to be rational and consider your words. She finally nods curtly, and you sigh softly in relief.

"She loves you, Emma... That hasn't changed, and I would bet it never will. She loves you, and so do David and Henry and... and so do many others."

She flinches as if those words were literally hurting her, and judging by the new glow in her eyes, you'd say she's crying, even if it's hard to be wife in the dim light. Still - or maybe exactly because of that - she looks as non-threatening as she's ever looked since that night.

You take a deep breath and gather the courage to move from your spot behind the table, slowly walking around it until you're standing next to her. She hasn't either stepped back or jumped on you so far, and you figure that's a good sign.

Very tentatively, you raise a hand up to her shoulder, feeling her flinch once more - but just slightly, not even enough to move away from your touch. Smiling slightly, you give her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"We're not going to give up on you, Emma. None of us is."

From all the unexpected things that have happened during this extremely long and peculiar day, the most unexpected one is certainly that Emma starts crying hard at your words.


End file.
